A Carrington Christmas Carol
by ss9
Summary: Blake Carrington hates Christmas as it reminds him of everything he has lost. Can the timely intervention of three ghosts set him back on the right path in time for Christmas day? Dynasty does Dickens...
1. Prologue

God Blake was really starting to hate Christmas…

London at Christmas seemed particularly bad. Whenever he ventured outside of his hotel no matter then miserable weather, the icy cold that seemed to sap the warmth from his bones, the freezing wind that whipped around street corners and laughingly ripped your hat and scarp away from you; it didn't even have the decency to snow properly. Just this icy slush that the ever-passing traffic turned to brown sludge.

What made it worse was that other people seemed to be able to ignore all of this and still go about with damn smiles on their faces even as they had to fight through crowds of shoppers for that last elusive gift or were forced to wait endlessly for a table in a restaurant only to be served with a grimace barely appetising lukewarm food that then cost them an arm and a leg. And still people called it the season of good cheer…

The only thing good about it in Blake's opinion was that seasonal monetary pressures tended to make people more agreeable when it came to negotiating deals.

It was for that reason that Blake Carrington had chosen not to go home for Christmas. He had made the choice to fly over to London instead as soon as the obituary had hit the London Times in order to finalise a deal that would make Denver Carrington even bigger. Snatching the opportunity to acquire a prime firm after the death of it's owner from distant relatives who were only too happy to see the old bastard dead and buried and get their hands on his money out from under Cecil Colby's aristocratic nose.

It was only a shame that Blake wouldn't be there on Christmas morning when his old pal Cecil received the news that Blake had beaten him completely to the punch. It was a well deserved victory in Blake's eyes after all he had sacrificed catching a flight home that would enable him to spend Christmas eve with his children.

"Mr Carrington?" Glancing up Blake forced a smile for Andrew Peterson his man in London who stood hovering nervously around the door to his own office which Blake had had no choice but to commandeer for the length of the negotiations. Peterson was an excellent lawyer but with his ruddy complexion and rather rounded figure Blake had to wonder if he was the best representation. After all Denver Carrington was the still the young kid on the block in the oil business, it was seen as the sleek an agile killing machine as opposed to Colby Co's large imposing behemoth. It simply didn't do to have a man who looked more likely to keel over in a heart attack himself than go for the jugular as his public face…Plus the man was far too cheerful to be born on a regular basis.

"Yes Mr Peterson?" Blake asked glaring at the nervously smiling fat man who sidled awkwardly into what used to be his own office.

"It's getting somewhat late Mr Carrington, well after seven and it is Christmas Eve…"

"Your point if you have one?" Blake grunted cutting his underling off.

"Well security were hoping to close down the building for the holidays…" Mr Peterson answered a nervous sweat beading on his brow that he mopped at with his handkerchief. "If we keep them waiting much longer they will be wanting triple rates."

Sighing Blake had to admit there he had a point. The idea of paying the pointless security guard triple time for simply sitting around drinking tea whilst Blake slaved away to pay for it stuck in his gourd. Waving Mr Peterson away Blake grunted as he began to collect his paperwork. "Very well I will simply take this back to the hotel with me then. I at least will have plenty of time to look over it tomorrow."

"Actually Mr Carrington…" Mr Peterson cut in nervously. "My wife was wondering if you haven't already made plans if you would like to join us for Christmas dinner tomorrow…She's an excellent cook and there will be more than enough and she hates the idea of you sitting all alone…"

"Thank you for your kind invitation but I must decline." Blake cut the man off before his babbling could become even more pathetic. As if he would want to spend any longer in such company…and socially…Blake could only roll his eyes.

"Oh I did tell her you probably already had plans an important man such as yourself." Mr Peterson spluttered his cheeks now a deep crimson. "Still if you should change your mind…"

"I won't." Blake all but bit back, stacking his paperwork in his briefcase. After all he did indeed have plans, plans to spend the day reviewing the paperwork for this deal and downing a bottle of scotch. "Just make sure that you and your legal team are ready to finalise this the day after, I cannot be hanging around London for days at a time…time is money you know."

"But that's boxing day and…"

"Is there a problem?"

"Well its traditionally a holiday, all my team have booked leave and…."

"Then cancel it." Blake retorted simply. "They can take holiday on their own time not mine. Let's make it nice and clear shall we, either they come in and finalise my paperwork or I take my business to a new law firm." Blake added watching as finally the colour drained from Peterson's face. "Are we clear?"

Nodding like a dumb fool Mr Peterson could only babble as Blake headed for the door and out into another miserable London night. "Yes sir crystal clear Mr Carrington."

God he hated London. It always brings back memories Blake would much rather forget. Plus there was nothing worse than having to hurry through the drizzle and the revellers who crowded every pavement forcing Blake to walk in the gutter if he wanted to avoid trampling or even worse being drawn into a hug with some inebriated city worker. Things wouldn't have been so bad if he had been able to at least find a cab, yet it seemed everytime one appeared it was already occupied and there was no way Blake Carrington would be seen dead getting on public transport.

So that left walking.

Still it was only a mile to his hotel, Blake was almost relieved when he caught sight of the bright lights of the Ritz. There at least was a bottle of scotch with his name on it and a passable steak from room service. Warm and dry and away from all of these damn idiots and…

"SHIT." Blake cursed loudly as in his sudden urge to get to the hotel he hadn't looked where he was going and had almost gotten knocked down by a taxi…ironically the only one Blake had seen with it's light on all evening. Then in jumping back out of the road as the taxi driver blared his horn Blake grimaced as he accidentally jumped back into the biggest dirtiest puddle he could have found; drenching his hand stitched leather shoes and splashing dirty icy water all up the legs of his new suit trousers.

Squelching every step by the time he actually reached his hotel Blake's foul mood had deteriorated to such an extent that when the doorman dared to smile at him and open the door wishing Blake "A Merry Christmas to you sir…If you have any spare change tonight me and the boys are collecting on behalf of the local children's homes…"

It was all Blake could do to restrain from throttling the poor man. "Does it look like I am having a merry Christmas?" Blake all but yelled as the doorman quailed the full force of Blake's rage. "I am drenched and frozen to the bone and you have the nerve to wish me a merry Christmas expecting me to tip you for just doing your job and sucking up…And if you really think I am naive enough to believe you are actually collecting for charity? How much of that will end up being spent down your local pub?"

Astounded by such a reaction the doorman could only gape like a fish his mouth opening and closing with only gasps of surprise coming out as half of the reception stopped and the duty manager hurried over.

"Mr Carrington is there a problem?"

"Yes there is I pay good money for my suite here and I do not expect to be harassed for money by your doorstaff. I am sure that is not the reputation the Ritz was hoping to cultivate amongst its international visitors?"

"But I was only…"

"That is enough John. I think it is best you apologise and take your break…no better yet finish your shift now and have Fredrickson take over and don't expect to be paid your overtime." The manager hissed. "I already warned you about this once…If you want to donate your tips then that is your choice but under no circumstances are you to ask our guests to contribute!…I am so sorry Mr Carrington…and so is John.." The manager added with a glare at the doorman who nodded glumly.

Moderately appeased Blake took the forced apology for what it was barely gracing this doorman John with a nod of acknowledgement before heading to the elevators and the sanctuary of his suite. At least there he wouldn't have to deal with anybody else, there Blake Carrington could do his best to shut out the rest of the world.

Several hours later Blake was settled in his room with a large brandy, several others having been already consumed, scowling at the fine print of his contract when all of a sudden the electric lights begin to flicker before suddenly going out altogether. Cursing loudly Blake immediately moved to the phone only to lift the receiver and find that that was also dead.

"Damn power cut." Blake grumbled yet as he turned around his scowl only deepened as it seemed the gaudy fluorescent streetlights weren't at all affected, in fact none of the buildings around had been plunged into darkness. Stalking to window to check if any other lights had gone out Blake could only squint as there seemed to be some bright glow building…

Perhaps it was one of those searchlights or perhaps some idiot had their headlights on full beam? Although that would be a damn funny angle…and the bright light seemed to be moving. Faster and higher it rose until it disappeared too close to the hotel and out of Blake's line of sight. Craning his neck to catch sight of where it have vanished too Blake all but screamed out loud as there was a sharp tapping on his window.

Staggering backwards Blake could only blink and rub his eyes as a ghostly apparition of a fat old man appeared to be tapping at his window.

"No…I must be hallucinating." Blake muttered to himself glancing down at his brandy glass. Or maybe he had been slipped some sort of narcotic by accident?

Yet still the figure continued to knock with growing impatience and unnerved despite repeating to himself that it wasn't real that he was imaging it entirely it was becoming harder and harder to remain clam and ignore it. Scrambling back Blake grabbed for the telephone, yet no matter how many times he pressed the buttons it remained for the phone still dead. Now the knocking was constant and loud practically banging. Covering his ears Blake cowered on the floor, his panic beginning to take control as his grip on the dead telephone became almost deathlike.

"GO AWAY!" Blake yelled, throwing the dead phone with all his strength towards the apparition only for it to break the glass and let the ghostly figure in.

"About bloody time do you how freezing it is out there…honestly the youth of today no manners the lot of you." The fat elderly ghost griped as floated down and settled himself down in the chair Blake had only recently vacated chair before looking down longingly at Blake's abandoned brandy, muttering morosely. "I can't even enjoy the fumes anymore."

For a moment Blake couldn't find his words or his courage, yet it didn't take long for his former foul mood to overcome even his own terror and Blake demanded to know "Who the hell are you and what do you thinks you are doing here?

Yet of all the responses Blake had expected for the ghost to huff sullenly and scowl at him over his ghostly pez nez was not one of them.

"That's just typical you've been practically fighting over my corpse to get your greedy hands on my company and you don't even have the decency to recognise me". The ghost muttered indignantly before stooping to introduce himself. "I am Mr Charles Hetherington-Smythe or at least I was."

Stunned Blake had to admit that of all the possible answers that had not been amongst one of them. "And why are you here?"

"Not by choice I assure you but I've been sent to sort you out. Someone somewhere must have some clout and more astonishingly still cares about you Carrington which is amazing considering all you've ever done is hurt and alienate those who love you."

"Humbug it's the drink or I'm dreaming…that's it I'm just dreaming." Blake insisted only pausing as the ghost came to lean over him and Blake could smell his rotting breath, the sick grin on the ghosts face taunting him.

"Oh I think I can find a way to convince you I'm real…." The ghost of Charles Hetherington-Smythe muttered gleefully as he reached out and grabbed Blake by the tie before drifting over to the window and dragging a struggling screaming Blake after him to half hang out of the broken window.

"Now Carrington since I am the only thing keeping you from falling to your death you would like to reconsider your last statement?"

Blake choked by the tightening tie could barely choke out a "Yes."

Yet that seemed to be enough as reluctantly the Spirit relented, giving him a push that sent Blake sprawling onto his back amidst the broken glass.

"Good now we've got that little matter out of the way we can get down to business."

Loosening his tie Blake managed to gasp for breath as his quick mind grasped on the word business, surely he must be able to bargain with the spirit. "What do you want…money..me to leave your company alone…What?"

Scoffing at Blake's ridiculous attempt the apparition spat back bitterly. "You cannot give me what I want Carrington…"

"I can try."

"Salvation…redemption…atonement?" The spirit questioned his evil smirk growing as Blake seemed to shrink. "Not words you are very familiar with unless you are demanding it of others. Well no man can atone for another he must wipe away his own sin through suffering and humiliation, until he at last understands the suffering he has condemned others to. Well you are lucky Carrington you are being given a chance to change your path before it is too late."

"Lucky I damn well don't feel lucky…"

"That is because you're an idiot." The spirit scoffed. "Take the chance or don't take it is ultimately your choice, either way you will be visited by three spirits who will try to show you the error of your ways."

"Three spirits? Haven't I been haunted enough?" Blake spluttered cringing, as the old spirit seemed to grow to fill the room. When he next spoke the words seemed to rattle the room and Blake clutched his head, squinting against the sudden brightness and the way the words seemed to echo inside his skull.

"Expect the first spirit when Big Ben tolls one!"


	2. Ghost of Christmas Past

It felt like hours later but was in actual fact probably only minutes when Blake woke up on the floor of his hotel suite. The dull glow of his bedside table lamp illuminated the room as Blake blinked in surprise and glanced about. Everything looked just like it had before, the window was whole and there was no one else in the room. The only thing out of place was the telephone, which for some reason was tangled about his feet. Sitting up Blake reached up to his head wincing when his hand came away with a tinge of blood on it; his forehead felt tender as though he had knocked….

Of course he must had tripped over the telephone wire and then knocked his head, people must hallucinate all manner of things after a head injury. Gingerly getting to his feet Blake picked the battered telephone back up and set it back on the side table before picking up the receiver and dialing the night desk. Relieved when someone answered promptly Blake requested a first aid kit before setting the receiver back down and lowers himself into the bedside chair. After one last glance about the room, which was thankfully spirit free, Blake allowed himself to momentarily close his eyes, his heart rate beginning to calm…

It was almost amusing when he thought about it, what an odd thing to imagine up…

In fact he was just about to doze off when in the distance the sound of bells faintly chiming woke Blake from his daze…something about the bells was supposed to be significant…Yet before he could grasp it the sound of restrained knocking on the door of his hotel suite drove such thoughts from his mind.

Hobbling over to the door Blake opened it and stared out, blaming his aching head when there was no one there. Stepping back he was about to close the door again when a polite coughing caught his attention and he glanced down.

There in a faded old-fashioned bellboy uniform was a child…a boy he couldn't have been any older than nine or ten and for a moment Blake stared at him mesmerised before remembering himself. "Yes?"

"Mr Carrington?"

"Yes." Blake replied puzzled as the boy smiled brightly at him before handing him an envelope fixed with a wax seal.

"You're to come with me now sir…"

Frowning in confusion Blake turned the letter over, indeed seeing his own name written in precise copperplate handwriting that looked so familiar. "Come with you where?...But you're just a child, where are your parents?"

"That's a complicated question Mr Carrington and we haven't the time the night is waning fast…whatever happens don't let go of your invitation now or I might not be able to bring you back when I should…"

"Bring me back…what on earth are you…" Blake spluttered reaching for the boy, his horror only growing as his hand moved straight through him like water. "Oh my god…"

Laughing at Blake's reaction the young lad shook his head. "No actually the name is Jimmy but to you I suppose I am the ghost of Christmas past. Now come along Mr Carrington we have much to see and precious little time to see it in…hold on tight now." The bellboy called out and when he took Blake's hand he felt solid enough.

He was the only thing that was as around them the familiar surroundings of the hotel vanished and Blake was amazed to find himself standing in a yard he hadn't seen, well in years, staring up at a house that was impossible. Not only because it meant he had travelled across an entire ocean in a matter of seconds but also because this his childhood home had burnt to the ground years ago.

Blake was so stunned that he didn't see the two boys come running out of the house laughing at each other as they grabbed handfuls of snow and making quick snowballs began an impromptu snowball fight.

"It's alright they can't see you…these are just shadows of what once was."

"That's me…" Blake gasped staring down at his younger self, the dark hair and lineless face of his fourteen year old self as he laughed and played with his little brother… "Ben…" Blake added his voice breaking slightly as his brother's name crossed his lips for the first time in fifteen years. The familiar anger rising up yet somehow it was almost impossible to reconcile the irresponsible brother he remembered and the happy playful seven year old romping in the snow.

How had he forgotten this? Was this all a figment of his imagination, or was that look of hero worship on Ben's face real…Blake remembered when they were younger that Ben used to trail him everywhere, at the time he had found it annoying but now able to take a step back Ben's adoration of his big brother was plain for all to see.

"Boys come on in now it's too cold for this and dinner is ready…" a soft familiar voice called out and Blake's heart leapt with joy equal to the joyful yells of the two boys as they raced in.

Following albeit hesitantly Blake had no choice than to follow his guide's example yet the sensation of passing through the door was not one he relished. However stepping inside his old kitchen a flood of memories all but assaulted him. The smell and feel of home. Everything felt wonderful, he was happy here as a boy with his mother and before things had gone wrong between him and his brother and then…

"Is Dad home yet?"

Jerking his head up at the sound of his younger self's tentative question Blake remembered the sinking sensation before the question was even answered. It was no…it was always no.

"No Blake but your father did telephone and send his apologies. He has been held up on some last minute business and won't be back till late."

Standing back Blake could see his younger self hide his disappointment, already the mask he had built to hide his weaknesses from others was under development. Ben however had no such control and big fat tears began to trickle down his cheeks.

"Now now big Ben no tears…they'll make your gravy all watery." Mother chided and Blake watched as she gathered both of her boys into a hug, a keen feeling of longing to feel the warmth and comfort of that embrace one more time swelling up within him. Yet the only touch he could feel was that of the little spirit on his sleeve as he tugged Blake away from the family.

"Come Mr Carrington there is much more to see."

"ahh this looks like the right place…"

It took several moments for Blake to recover from the abrupt journey. It seemed disappearing from one place and appearing suddenly in another was the way spirits travelled but Blake was struggling to keep up. Shaking his head of the lingering dizziness Blake was surprised when he recognized a familiar lodge all decked out in Christmas colours with the distant sound of music and laughter. "What on earth are we doing here?"

"It looks to me like a Christmas party…" The young spirit answered innocently immune to the glare that Blake shot him as the ghostly bellboy drifted in through the door and Blake had no choice but to follow him.

It was indeed a Christmas party and there were more than a few familiar faces about…younger familiar faces. There over by the punchbowl was a frownless Cecil Colby chatting away to a pretty blonde. The raucous laughter emanated from a group that had Sam Dexter at the centre of it and there over trying to convince the swing band conductor to try something a little quieter was Farnsworth Dexter Snr himself… The old man looked as imposing and vital as he ever had and that stirred some unnamed emotion in Blake.

After the war Farnsworth Dexter had all but taken Blake under his wing and for a time he and Sam Dexter had been more like brothers than friends. Farnsworth had in some ways been more of a father to him than Tom had ever been, he had been the one to encourage Blake to set up his own business even at his young age, and it had been Farnsworth who Blake had turned to in those early days for advice. Over the years though as the man had aged and Sam took over more of the family's business affairs Blake had seen less and less of Farnsworth Snr who had decided to enjoy his semi-retirement and run the family ranch out in Wyoming.

Oh Blake made plans and promises to travel out there for birthdays and Christmas's yet somehow there was always something else that required his attention and plans were canceled. Looking back now Blake struggled to remember the last time he had accepted and kept such an invitation or even talked to the old man on the phone…

"Come on now everyone to the dancefloor!" Farnsworth called out and couples and friends moved to accommodate his wishes.

"I said everyone. Sam where is has that scallywag Blake disappeared to?"

Laughing at his father's familiar nickname for his erstwhile and all but adopted brother Sam Dexter raised his eyebrows suggestively. "If you are referring to the newlywed Mr & Mrs Carrington I do believe Blake mentioned taking a stroll to get some air!" Yet from the way Sam said that last word it left no one in any doubt as to what exactly he meant by that.

"Well go get them they can canoodle in their own time…honestly every time I see the two of them I think I will have to find a hose and spray them down." Farnsworth joked and Sam scampered off.

Eagerly the young spirit followed ignoring Blake's protest as he was dragged away from the crowded room of long forgotten faces and deeper into a house that once he had known as well as his own.

"There really is no need…" Blake began. The memories of the first time this had happened were already flooding back and Blake found himself tugging his collar in embarrassment. He didn't want to go back there, didn't need to see the proof that once upon a time he had been naïve and in love. Yet Blake was powerless to do anything but watch as Sam crept up on the oblivious couple in the corner of the room curled up together on the love seat.

Yet it wasn't Sam and the conveniently placed indoor watering can left lying about that caught and held his attention as against his will Blake found his eyes glued to his younger self and the even younger lady clutched tightly in his arms. They only had eyes for each other and as Alexis reached up to stroke his younger self's cheek before pressing kisses to the corners of his mouth Blake unconsciously reached up to brush his fingers across his own…For a moment Blake could have sworn he had felt a ghost of that touch and kiss.

God they were so young…or at least Alexis was.

That really struck Blake for the first time. Here he was watching his own thirty year old self locked in a passionate embrace with Alexis who was little more than a girl…swallowing down the uncomfortable fact that at this time Alexis was all but three years older than Fallon was back in his own time…

Dear god if some older man dared to come along and not only marry but impregnate Fallon when she barely more than a baby herself Blake didn't know what he would do?

A moment later a lady's screech brought him back to the past and a few seconds later Sam Dexter all but ran through him with a red faced and rather wet Blake Carrington hot on his heels.

"I didn't see anything….Uncle Uncle!" Sam Dexter called out as Blake watched his younger self about to pounce.

"Come on Blake stop hiding that pretty bride of yours away and come and spend some time with an old man!"

"You're not old!" Young Blake retorted yet he did as he bid and reappeared tugging a beaming Alexis along behind him.

It seemed the two of them couldn't go for more than a few seconds without needing to touch the other…Blake had forgotten that. It had been one of the many things he had tried and succeeded in forgetting about his former wife, her beauty, her tinkling laugh…the way she looked at him…those emerald eyes shining with love and adoration and locked on Blake…only on him.

When had things changed?

When had Alexis stopped looking at him like that? Or when had he stopped noticing?

"Come now everyone join us in a toast…That's it Sam pass the champagne around." Farnsworth Dexter commanded jovially and almost everyone hurried to accept.

"Sam wait Alexis hasn't a glass…Come now Alexis Sam told me all about how much you like champagne there is no need to hold back, you're married to Blake now which makes you family."

Blake watched as his younger self shared a look with his child bride, that silent communication without words that at times seemed to bring them so close and other times made them all but strangers. Still the older Blake could remember that connection now…could remember the reason for it and it stirred more feelings than Blake had allowed himself to feel in years.

Oh god he was going to…

"Actually Sam there is something Alexis and I have been meaning to announce and now is as good a time as any…" The young Blake answered nervously as he tucked a smiling Alexis into his side his arm draped possessively about her waist. "Let's just say that by this time next year there will be one more Carrington needing a place around the table at Christmas…we're going to have a baby!"

The sudden clamor and outpouring of joy and congratulations startled the older Blake who staggered back to avoid the feeling of being crushed in the sudden mob of well-wishers. In fact he was almost relieved when the his ghostly guide tugged at his sleeve and drew him away.

"Come Mr Carrington there is still more you need to see."

Nodding dumbly Blake could feel the air around the changing and yet he kept his eyes fixed on his happy younger self and a glowing Alexis for as long as humanly possible…they had been so happy once…how on earth had he forgotten that?

He was home…

And yet without even entering the mansion Blake knew he wasn't really home home. The scaffolding covering part of the mansion's exterior and the overgrown garden at the front of the house were more than enough signs of that.

Which could only mean it was that Christmas…and suddenly Blake didn't want to go inside at all.

"What is the point of all this?" Blake blustered causing the young spirit to pause and stare at him with eyes that looked far too old and knowing than they should in such an innocent face. "I have already been here, I lived through it…I got through it…what can possibly be gained by dragging up painful memories."

"You may have lived through it but did you learn anything?" The spirit answered tartly before turning and striding towards the large double doors leaving Blake no choice to follow.

The hallway was empty and looked stark and abandoned. The hallway was stripped back there was no carpet up the stairs. Yet Blake could see in its shell the magnificence it would become thanks to his hard earned money and Alexis's artistic eye and good taste.

Yet what couldn't be ignored were the sound of raised voices as they echoed out from what would become the library and Blake's personal sanctum into the hallway for all to hear.

"…God Dammit Blake you cannot continue to pretend that this hasn't happened!"

"Coming from you that is the height of irony!" Blake recognized only too clearly his own brand of sarcasm as he defended himself against his father's double standard. "Look we were coping fine until you turned up trying to help and…"

"Fine what on earth about any of this is fine?" Tom Carrington spat back and Blake didn't even need to glance around the open door to picture his father's expression, he could remember only too well Tom's beet red face and the way his dark eyes seemed to widen like a raging bull.

"You've got a wife who is barely able to speak without bursting into tears and you…dear god what is wrong with you Blake you just lost a child and instead of grieving like a normal …."

"A normal what?" The younger Blake retorted hotly causing his older counterpart to winch as he remembered what was coming next. "Like a normal human being…like a father? Well how am I supposed to know how a father should behave since my own was barely ever present when I was growing up?"

Gritting his teeth Tom looked to Blake's eyes as if he was about to have a coronary yet for some reason that still eluded Blake to the present day his father actually swallowed his pride. "I admit it I wasn't the best father, I left far too much of your raising to your mother but since she was such a good mother I didn't worry about you boys as much as I should have…but this has nothing to do with me…in fact it is quite the opposite, if you know what a terrible father I was then why are you making my mistakes?"

"I never left my son."

"That is not…." Tom began before sighing sadly. "Blake please this is too important to fight about, at times like this the family needs to pull together…"

"When I need advice on family values I will ask. Beside we aren't family not really." The younger Blake spat back testily dropping his gaze to return to his paperwork and so missing entirely the look of pain and horror on his father's face, the way the older man's hands shook as he spoke.

"You don't mean that?" Yet the raw emotion on his father's face didn't escape Blake senior on this his second viewing of the past and it stirred up mixed emotions. Yes it was hypocritical of Tom to try and advise him but Blake couldn't continue to convince himself that Tom didn't care about him…the raw pain on his father's face as he denied him was proof enough to the contrary.

"I do."

"But but…"

"In fact I think it would be better for everyone if you left…tonight preferably." The younger Blake coolly replied lifting his head from the contracts that he feigned interest in. "If you continue to stir up unpleasant subjects how is Alexis ever to get over it? What she needs is to find something new to focus on, to distract her from dwelling on things…the house for example."

"Blake Alexis doesn't need a project she needs support from someone. She needs to talk to someone….you… anyone, but you can't just force her to stop grieving, she has just lost a child!" Tom pleaded yet his son was implacable.

"We have both lost a child." Blake corrected his father with barely an inflection of emotion. "And Alexis will be fine, she doesn't need to be pandered too, not by you…" Blake answered firmly before returning to his paperwork and ignoring his father's bluster. "Please just leave you're not welcome here Tom."

"Well then I will go if you insist on it." Tom muttered his gray brows drawn together as he shook his head sadly.

Stepping back as his father left, even though Tom could just have easily walked through him, Blake was surprised when instead of immediately leaving like he had always thought Tom had, his father paused before heading up the stairs instead.

"Where is he going?"

Lifting an eyebrow innocently the young spirit answered. "I thought you said you didn't need to learn anything from this visit?"

"I…" Blake began before pausing, it was difficult to admit that he might not indeed know everything but having experienced this unsual experience of watching his own life unfold he was now prepared to consider that were in fact things that he might have missed…things that might have occurred out of his eyesight or hearing that had influenced things. Or perhaps it was his own innate curiosity, the need to know things once he had discovered they were being kept from him.

So swallowing some of his pride Blake saw no other choice than to say. "Please?"

This was not what Blake had expected.

"She told me it was an accident." Blake intoned softly, wracking his own memory, which was decidedly hazy. How had he been so wrapped up in his own grief that Alexis had been able to hide something like this from him? "That she had slipped getting out of the bath and had grabbed onto the vanity…smashed the mirror…"

Yet as Blake watched as his father all but tore the craft knife from Alexis's hands and moved to clumsily bandage the existing cuts with whatever he could lay his hands on, towels…her robe…

"My god why didn't I know about this? Why didn't he tell me?" Blake continued to mutter mainly to himself even as the young spirit looked on sympathetically. "Why didn't she say anything…I would have listened if I had known it was this bad…"

Leaning against the damp tile Blake was powerless to do anything else but watch as his father tended to Alexis. Tom was the one who calmed her down…the one who had all but saved her life if these shadows were the truth of what had really happened. Dear god if Tom had really done as Blake had asked and left the mansion immediately when would Blake have discovered the truth? Later that night…no the next morning.

Running his hand across his face Blake felt the guilt sink like a stone to the bottom of his stomach; a not unfamiliar feeling during this little trip down memory lane.

He remembered now. That night he had stayed up pulling together plans for the expansion of Denver Carrington, anything rather than think about the elephant in the room…my god he still couldn't bring himself to say it. Even after fifteen years his son's name stuck in his throat and unshed tears burnt behind his eyes.

Adam….his name was Adam and he had been perfect…the apple of his parents eye and Blake had sworn over his son's cradle that he would be a better father than his own had been he would be there for his son whenever he needed him, for his first step, word…every milestone.

Yet despite his every care Blake had failed his boy, snatched from his baby carriage at little more than four months old and with no news as to how he was Blake had withdrawn into himself. He had shut out everyone and thrown himself into the only thing that didn't ask him every few minutes how he was doing…his work. Since he was destined to be a failure as a father just like his own had been then he might as well be spared the pain like Tom had.

It hurt too much to care…the risk of being hurt was too great to be more than just a periphery larger than life figure in his children's life. He loved them…he loved Fallon and Steven just as he loved Adam but Blake could realize now how much he had remained distanced from his own children. He had made sure they never became a major everyday feature in his life, so if something happened to either one of them their gaping absence every day would not have been as stark as Adam's disappearance had been.

A tugging on his sleeve brought Blake back to the bathroom and his arms ached to reach out and offer comfort but it was too late…he had missed the chance back then and he was missing out yet again now.

"Come along Mr Carrington our time here is over…I need to be getting you back because he doesn't have the time to be kept waiting?"

Shell-shocked Blake could only nod numbly before some semblance of his common sense returned and he thought to ask. "Who are we meeting?"

"You are meeting him not I…my time on this plane is over and it's time for you to meet the Ghost of Christmas Present!"


	3. Ghost of Christmas Present

Blake was feeling surprisingly nervous. Before his eyes his previous guide had vanished along with the sunrise and Blake had found himself suddenly alone and wandering in the mansion's garden.

There must have been an overnight snowfall as the ornamental garden was covered in a blanket of pure white snow. The pond had iced over and for a moment Blake peered down into the water trying to catch a shimmer of the vividly coloured fish. Yet they must have been hibernating or something and so Blake took off wandering through the rest of the garden. Blake couldn't recall the last time he had simply walked through these garden for pleasure, he was always just too busy…

However Blake's calm tranquility was suddenly shattered by the excited shriek of children. Surprised Blake stood and watched as his two children barrel out of the house pulling on their gloves and coat. Steven and Fallon began to trample through the snow before scooping up snow and throwing at each other. Unable to do anything but watch Blake he would have thought were far too old to get so excited about something as simply as snow.

In his mind Blake had already begun to consider them old enough not to need him around all the time. Boarding school provided much of the parental supervision that Blake was simply unable to provide as well as running a large international oil company. At twelve and fourteen they were hardly small children however as Blake continued to watch them it was all too easy to see glimpses of their younger selves in their excited faces.

"Beautiful to watch isn't it…such a simply joy." A deep booming voice pronounced and Blake all but leapt out of his skin.

There standing to his left was a giant of a man, his head adorned with a large afro and his height only accentuated by what looked like platform shoes…In short the least likely person Blake was to see on his land, which only left one possible answer…

"Are you the…"

"Ghost of Christmas Present? Yeah that's me." The ghost answered for Blake tugging on the bottom of his fitted white jacket before offering Blake a heavily adorned hand for him to shake…the weight of the sovereign ring on his pinky finger causing Blake to wince as the ghost's strong grip enclosed around his smaller hand.

"A pleasure." Blake feigned a smile only for it to drop when the ghost began to laugh, a big booming laugh that rattled his fillings.

"Oh man you fool many people with that smile?….Do you even remember how it feels to be genuinely pleased to meet anyone…or how to let what you really feel show on your face?"

"I…" Blake began opening his mouth to immediately defend himself before closing it again. He had been about to deny it, to protest his innocence, yet what was the point of trying to lie to a spirit? If he could see through Blake's mask then chances were he knew better than Blake himself when he wasn't being a 100% honest.

"Well at least you seem to have learnt something." The spirit chuckled jovially, reaching out to pat Blake companionably on his shoulder and all but dislocating it in the process and Blake staggered to avoid ending up face first in the snow.

"So where are we going first? Back to London…Paris…New York?" Blake questioned.

"How about inside?" The ghost answered shaking the snow from his shoes as he began to trudge after the children and head towards the mansion.

Frowning Blake knew he had no choice but to follow yet that didn't stop him from questioning his guide. "Why here? I thought you were here to 'save me' somehow bringing me home is hardly going to do that!"

"Ahhhh." The spirit answered cryptically. "But even the wisest of men can miss what is right under their nose all the time…besides its freezing out here and I can just smell some eggnog….Hmmmm I do love eggnog."

Scowling at the flippant reply Blake automatically shook off the snow from his shoes before entering the house, pleased to see it once more as he remembered, the wallpaper and stair carpet now returned to their proper place, except with the addition of a beautifully decorated tree and festive garlands wound up and along the banisters.

"Miss Fallon Master Steven I really wish you hadn't just rushed out like that…what if you get sick your father…" 

"Won't even notice." Steven answered sullenly ignoring the glare his older sister sent him. "What it's true."

Ignoring her brother Fallon turned expectantly to Joseph. "Has Daddy called yet Joseph?"

"I am afraid not Miss Fallon." Joseph answered hesitantly and Blake could tell his old friend was restraining himself from commenting further. It didn't take a genius for Blake to realize his mojodomo suspected that Blake had forgotten to call entirely….after all it was already afternoon in London and Blake's grand plans for the festive day had involved a bottle of whiskey and some monotonous contracts for reading material.

"However he has instructed that your presents be laid out in the living room…"

"What's the bet I get another signed football?" Steven commented and Blake couldn't help but frown he had a vague memory of asking his secretary to arrange for the team to sign a ball for Steven…but was that this year or last? Or as Blake was beginning to suspect from Steven's resigned expression several years in a row?

"Oh don't sulk Steven, if you don't want a football why don't you just tell Daddy what you do want like I do?" Fallon huffed as she settled down to work through her large pile of presents. "See he does love us."

"Enough to hand your list over to his secretary." Steven retorted and Blake winced. When had his son become such a cynic, his world weary expression looked somehow wrong on his young face. Yet what made it worst was knowing that far from being wrong Steven had hit the nail on the head…Blake had indeed handed responsibility of buying their presents over to Marsha just like he had every year since…well since that first year.

"Don't go complaining just because you weren't smart enough to do the same." Fallon smugly replied as she unwrapped the pretty diamond stud earrings she had requested and set it next to the gift certificate for an obscene amount for an exclusive spa set in one of Denver's elitist hotels.

"I don't care about getting the most presents Fallon…I just want…I just want Dad to pick me something himself…"

"Daddy's too busy for that, it doesn't mean he loves us any less." Fallon answered primly her blue eyes flashing with anger. "You're just sulking because you were wrong…she didn't send us anything just like I said she wouldn't."

"You don't know that…"

"Well I've opened all of my presents and not one of them came from her. Honestly Steven when are you going to stop and grow up? She doesn't love us, she never did, why else would she leave us? It's about time you stop blaming Daddy and accepted it, besides we're better off with out her…"

"When are you going to stop being mean…and she has a name you know!"

"Not to me…not anymore." Fallon retorted hotly meeting her brother's flushed face with angry determination. "And if you are going to keep bringing her up then I won't talk to you at all. In fact I don't even want to look at you."

"You don't mean that?" Steven answered hesitantly, his bottom lip trembling as his sister turned her back on him.

"Yes I do!" Fallon answered primly picking up her pile of presents and heading out the door.

For a moment Blake watched forlornly as his son stood torn, Steven wanted to chase after his sister that was written all over his face, and yet he hesitated.

"Such a sensitive child." The spirit whispered softly as Steven wiped away his snotty tears on the back of his jumper before finally relenting and heading after his sister.

"He's always been…" Blake paused the unflattering word pausing on his tongue.

Yet the spirit finished it for him. "Weak?"

"I didn't…"

"No but you think it." The spirit retorted shaking his head. "He knows that too you know. It's obvious really, all you ever buy him are things meant to toughen him up, the only praise he gets is for winning in sports."

"There is nothing wrong with wanting him to do well and he is good at sports!" Blake defended himself hotly.

"And Art and English and all manner of other things too." The spirit countered. "Skills he gets from his mother but you don't encourage those, men don't paint after all not unless they are queer…that is what you think isn't it?"

"I never said…"

Laughing the spirit shook his head before tapping Blake's forehead patronizing. "If it's in here then I know it, you can't hide any of your secrets from me you know. You are so angry at the world for hurting you Blake Carrington…you are so angry at Alexis for betraying you and now you are angry at yourself for not stepping in to save your marriage before it went too far."

Gritting his teeth Blake knew there was no point in denying it, it was like trying to lie to yourself, it was only ever temporary. "So why show me this…to rub in how I have ruined everyone's lives, to show me how much my own son hates me?"

"He doesn't hate you, he just misses his mother and he misses the father he doesn't really know." The ghost answered softly. "You have the power to change all of this Blake…you only have to find the courage to try."

London again…Blake couldn't help but groan. At least it had stopped raining, in fact with the clear blue skies and almost empty streets London was almost pleasant…without having to deal with other people. Of course it could never beat the picturesque setting they had just left behind, there wasn't even any snow.

"You really are difficult to please you know that?" The ghost huffed before glancing down at the large gold Rolex on his wrist, which was probably a fake Blake mused, just as Big Ben began to toll the hour.

"Hell I forgot about the time difference…we'd better hurry along now or we won't have time to see it all."

"See what all?"

"Why Christmas of course." The ghost huffed his afro wobbling as he shook his head. "We can't miss a second."

"It's just one day…" Blake began only for the spirit to cut him off.

"Its not about the day its about what the day represents. A chance to tell the people that you love how much you care…about remembering the past year and renewing the bonds of family…about just spending time together, having fun."

"And spending a fortune and eating until you are sick or fall down from the drink…"

"No that is not Christmas." The ghost corrected him. "How people choose to make merry is up to them, besides what is wrong with indulging a little as long as its not wasteful? And speaking of merry…." The ghost added with a flourish stopping in front of a nice Kensington Victorian terrace.

"I am about to show you the Christmas you could have had if you weren't so stubborn…come on now." He added all but grabbing Blake by the arm and dragging him through the door.

As soon as they appeared on the other side Blake was assaulted by the mouth watering scent of cooking meat…ham and….was that pheasant as well. Clearly the spirit was equally enthralled by the smell as he led Blake directly into the heart of the home where a rotund woman held court at a large kitchen table. For some reason she looked familiar, Blake was sure that he had seen her face somewhere before but he couldn't put his finger on it…which was odd because usually once he had been introduced to someone he always remembered their name.

However the answer came a moment later in the form of a familiar rounded face waddling into the kitchen in what had to be the most hideous jumper Blake had ever seen. It almost looked like someone had handed a toddler balls of red, white and brown wool and asked them to construct the ugliest looking reindeer jumper ever. Still Mr Peterson wore it with pride as he wandered into the kitchen and pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"How's it going Pet?"

"It's going well thank you…oh you've got your jumper on, I was worried I hadn't made it broad enough in the shoulder."

"No no it's perfect Pet I love it, I think it's your best ever."

Snorting with laughter Blake could only admire his lawyer's ability to lie with his sincerity…maybe he had been far too hasty in planning to sack the man. After all anyone who must have been presented with not one but year's worth of hideous homemade jumpers and whose wife was still clueless to that fact was a rare genius.

"So how many have we got coming this year?"

"Oh just the two of us, then old Mrs Jenkins down at the end…her daughter's in Australia you know. Then I have Constance and her son Terry coming, you know the one who doesn't talk much? Oh and Tom from round the corner said he might pop in, he is worried he'd be a bother poor love but I told him not to be so daft. So that's six unless your Mr Carrington actually turns up after all…"

"I doubt it. I think he was almost offended I asked." Mr Peterson answered sullenly only for his wife to lean over and kiss his blues away.

"That you asked is the most important thing." Mrs Peterson insisted. "God knows I hate to think of anyone being alone at Christmas and he would have been welcome but knowing his is self inflicted…and when I think of those two little uns all alone it breaks my heart…especially since…"

"Especially since?" Her husband prompted and Blake himself found himself leaning to listen, from the shifty way his wife blushed and avoided his gaze.

"Mary…"

"Oh fine since there own mother isn't allowed to see them. I saw her you know the other day, at the hairdressers. Oh I know normally the likes of Alexis Carrington would never talk to me but she must have over heard me saying about the collection of toys I was getting up for the orphanage. Anyway on her way out she stopped and just handed over a whole bag full of things from Hamleys, all brand new. I couldn't believe it but she insisted said it would be good for someone to actually play with them, she sends them presents every year you know and he has them sent back. " Mary Peterson answered curtly.

"I don't…" Blake protested glancing to the spirit who looked at questioningly. "I don't…I mean sure the first year I didn't give them I was worried it would just upset them and I told Joseph to…"

"When I think of what that poor woman must go through every year and he's here like they don't even matter…well it just doesn't seem fair how some people who least appreciate them can have all the babies they want and others…" Mary trailed off viciously hacking at the cooked bird until her husband took the carving knife out of her hands and set it down on the table before pulling her into a hug.

Blake paused his face loosing its colour. "I told him to deal with it, that I didn't want the children receiving things from their mother…but I only meant it that once." Blake insisted. "He never mentioned it again so I thought she had given up, I thought she had forgotten about them…" He trailed off feeling uncomfortable as Mary Peterson snuffled quietly.

"I just thought this year..." Mary muttered into his shoulder as her husband rubbed her back. "It's not fair John. Why us?"

"I don't know pet." John Peterson answered softly. "It's not fair but we make the best of it don't we?"

Nodding Mary brushed away her remaining tears before forcing a smile back on to her face. "And we still have each other and maybe next year?"

"Maybe next year." John echoed and Blake felt a growing respect for the man who could be both a kind loving husband and a top commercial lawyer at the same time.

"Come along Mr Carrington there is still much more for you to see."

"So what on earth are we doing here?" Blake couldn't help but ask. Of all the places he expected the ghost to take him next a run down farm in the middle of nowhere had not even been on the list let alone near the top. In fact Blake was surprised to realize that he had felt a frisson of disappointment when what he had been expecting didn't come to pass.

"It's Christmas here too you know…besides you might learn something if you take the time to actually listen first before reacting."

"Let me guess a poor but hardworking family gathered around the dinner table, with a crippled son, who are going to show me the true meaning of Christmas?" Blake retorted still smarting over Mary Peterson's rather brutal and honest assessment as his faults not only as a father but as a husband as well.

Scowling the normally jovial ghost stared at Blake like had lost his mind causing Blake to shift uncomfortably.

"Don't be a fool Carrington, this isn't some fairy story, this is your life we are talking about here but if you would rather stand around and crack jokes I can take you home right now to sulk and stew in your own misery…no harm no foul?"

Shifting uncomfortably Blake forced himself to meet the ghost's knowing gaze. "No…I apologize…I was out of line. I am grateful for what I have been shown, I have already learnt so much, even if some of them were things I was reluctant to face."

Nodding the ghost stared into Blake's eyes for a long moment as if weighing his words. "Alright then we need to head in, we're already running behind schedule."

Entering the house Blake was grateful for the warmth yet he was surprised it was so quiet. He really had been expecting the American as apple pie family gathered around the table giving thanks for each other and their blessings even though they had little more than a few dollars to rub together. In fact the quiet atmosphere made the skin on his arm prickle and the hairs on the back his neck stand on end. Something was wrong here…very wrong.

Following the spirit further into the house Blake paused at the bottom of the stairs as the ghost began to ascend without so much as a by your leave. "We can't just…this is someone else's house."

Yet the ghost didn't answer or pause in his steps leaving Blake no choice but to hurry after him. He caught up with his guide on the landing, almost walking right into him as the ghost had come to a stop at the top of the stairs. Craning his neck around the ghost's bulky frame Blake was intrigued to see an older woman conversing in hushed tones with a silver haired man clutching a large leather bag…a doctor's bag.

Wiggling past the ghost Blake crept close enough to overhear them. After all if he was here to learn something important than he needed to be able to hear them? So why did it feel like he was eavesdropping?

"…I have given the boy a mild sedative Kate but with all the other drugs that could be in his system I don't dare give him everything stronger…I am sorry but he really can't be left alone right now. I think you are going to be in for a rough night." The Doctor advised and Blake watched as Kate nodded stoically.

"I just wish we could understand why this has happened? I pray everyday for guidance…I thought I was raising him right, he used to be such a good boy…he does so well in school, I know I can't give him all the things his friends have but why did he need to turn to drugs? I just don't understand why god is punishing us this way?"

Reaching out the doctor patted her hand gently. "Michael has just lost his way Kate, he'll find his way back. We just need to be there for him, to try to understand why he felt the need to turn to drugs. I know he never seems to have many friends, he always seemed lonely to me. It can't be easy on him growing up without his parents…"

"He doesn't need friends he has me." Kate snapped. "I've always been there for him, after his parents passed on all we had was each other, if Michael was lonely he could have come to me."

"Yeah right…" Blake muttered and clearly the good doctor shared his opinion even if he was too polite to say so out loud.

"Even so I think it might be worth considering getting some professional help." The doctor suggested tentatively, yet he had barely finished when he was shot down.

"No. Michael doesn't need anyone else, I can look after my own grandson."

"But Kate, he needs to talk to someone who is trained so we can get to the reason why he started taking drugs in the first place?"

"So people can label him as crazy? So it can ruin all of his chances of going to a good college?" Kate demanded hotly. "No I have put too much time and effort into that boy to have him ruined just like that. He's going to make something of himself, my boy is special a prince among men, not like those other boys in town and he needs me right now not a bunch of strangers."

"Well of course if you insist we can try and keep this between us but I can't help but worry about the longer term consequences…."

"You leave the worrying to me Dr Edwards." Kate insisted. "Michael's welfare is my only concern."

Nodding the doctor had no choice but to capitulate and even though it strictly wasn't necessary Blake found himself squashing himself back against wall in order to allow them pass him by. Turning to the spirit Blake could only frown in confusion. Why was he here? He felt sorry for the family and part of him worried what if the spirit was trying to give him a warning about his own children's future, but other than that the message he was supposed to learn here was so far lost on him.

Opening his mouth to speak Blake only stopped when the ghost beckoned him to follow. Entering a dimly lit bedroom Blake found his gaze drawn to the figure on the bed. A teenage boy tossed and turned on the bed, his black hair plastered with sweat to his forehead as he shivered and clawed at imaginary demons.

"Poor boy." Blake whispered softly glancing up to see the spirit watching him intently. "What? He's little more than a child."

"Oh he's more than just a child Blake Carrington…He's your child…He's Adam."


	4. Ghost of Christmas yet to come

"Take me back now!" Blake all but tore his arm free from the spirit's grip the blood pounding in his head as he fumed.

"And what would you do if I did?" The ghost questioned. "Yell and shout? Create a scene?"

"You're damn right I will. You cannot drop something like that on someone and then expect them to react calmly. You tell me that poor boy is my son and then expect me to be content to simply leave him in the hands of one of his kidnappers. Dear god the boy turned to drugs, what sort of irresponsible guardian is his so called grandmother? God knows what she has put in through?"

"Adam is in no immediate danger unlike others…" The ghost replied cryptically and Blake paused long enough to draw breath to actually glance up at the grand town house in whose front garden he was now standing.

"What do you mean? Who is in danger?" Blake demanded his gaze now locked on the house which he didn't recognize. "Where are we?"

"Only a few miles away from your hotel actually." The ghost replied. "You are here to meet your final guide, are you ready?"

"As if I have much of a choice." Blake muttered yet he followed the ghost without further complaint stepping into the ornate receiving hallway.

It could have been beautiful, the decoration alone must have been worth a fortune and yet the house had a feeling of neglect and an emptiness that made Blake shiver. The deep shadows seemed to dominate the room and Blake found himself wishing he had a jacket of some sort to wrap around himself, instead he hugged his arms tightly around himself turning back to his guide who seemed to be fading before his eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"Oh my time on this earth is very brief…I leave you in the hands of my brother the Ghost of Christmas yet to come…learn from what he is about to show you Blake, learn and change for the better…more than just your own future happiness depends on it…"

Then just like that one moment he was there a faint outline and the next he was gone leaving Blake alone in the morgue like house. "Hello?" Blake called out peaking around the open doorways into opulent but empty rooms.

"Is there anyone here?" Still there was no answer and anxious to learn if he really was truly alone Blake overcame his own sensibilities and began to climb the staircase. Creeping down the curving hallway Blake was beginning to believe the house was completely empty until when passing one of the rooms he heard a sob and then more muffled crying.

"Hello?" Blake called out before smacking himself on the forehead. Unless this was his guide they wouldn't be able to hear him and even if they could by some miracle see him then they were far more likely to have him arrested for trespassing than help him out.

Gritting his teeth Blake forced himself to walk through the door, it was an unpleasant and unnatural sensation but his curiosity overcame his squeamishness. The room beyond the closed door was dark, even darker than the rest of the gloomy house for the shades were drawn, shutting out all but a sliver of dull winter's daylight.

The crying came from the bed, the sound of someone muffling their sobs into their pillow. Creeping closer Blake automatically reached out a hand, yet it passed through the crying person's shoulder.

However before Blake could curse the bedroom door slammed open causing the crying to cease and turn into strangled sobs that their owner tried so hard to suppress them.

In the doorway stood a man in his fifties, Blake would have called him handsome…or he had the signs of having once been handsome yet too much good living had blurred the edges. Clearly from the way he staggered unsteadily and his creased clothes that looked slept in the man was intoxicated. "Would you stop that infernal noise woman! You could raise the dead and some of us are trying to sleep!"

"I…am….sorry…Charles…"

That voice Blake knew that voice…or at least it sounded similar to hers…but her voice had never sounded so weak and utterly devoid of hope. It couldn't be her and yet as his eyes adjusted to the dim light Blake could make out a familiar outline, a nose and curve of her cheek even with hair mussed from sleep sticking to her wet cheeks.

"Don't be sorry just stop!" Charles barked. "Just go sort yourself…god you are pathetic."

Cowering in the sheets Alexis only bowed her head and clutched at her pillow not moving.

"I said go and sort yourself out…why do you persist in disobeying me wife?"

"Charles please I…."

"I don't want to hear your excuses, they are as pathetic as you are!" Charles spat back his lush face flushing in anger that robbed him of any lingering traces of attractiveness as he staggered across the room and roughly grabbed at his trembling wife.

"Stop it!" Blake demanded. "Let her go." Yet just as before his words didn't register with the shadows before him who continued to act out their scene oblivious to his ghostly presence. "You're hurting her."

"Charles please…." Alexis pleaded earning herself a sharp backhand across the cheek, the cracking sound of which had Blake jumping out of his skin, his stomach churning as he watched Alexis drop like a stone to the floor cradling her face in her hands as her husband towered over her.

"I don't want hear anymore of your excuses. You are my wife, you obey me, you love me…I don't want to hear about him ever again, or your brats…dear god look at you, why did I even marry you in the first place? You're old and ugly and nothing more than a whore. Now do as you're told and go clean that snot off your face, we are having guests for dinner and you will not continue to embarrass me!"

Nodding mutely Alexis got to her feet and padded across to the bathroom and Blake followed like a lost puppy. Turning on the bright light both of them winced at the sudden brightness but it was only Blake who gasped out loud in horror on catching sight of Alexis's reflection in the bathroom mirror. In addition to the new red handprint across her cheek there were assorted collections of bruises, some nearly faded the others stark ugly purple against her normally porcelain skin.

"Oh Alexis no…what has happened to you…why do you let him do this to you?"

Of course there was no answer and instead Blake had to watch as Alexis assembled a mask to hide her pain…even if she kept having to reapply her mascara as the few tears that still trickled down her cheeks made a smeary mess of it.

"Oh Blake why did you have to do this….why did you leave me?"

"What?" Startled by the question Blake's head snapped up, yet it seemed it was a rhetorical question and Alexis couldn't in fact see him. Yet the fact that she mentioned him at all sent shivers of foreboding down his spine.

However before Alexis could speak again a strong skeletal hand closed about Blake's shoulder and Blake all but shrieked in horror as there reflected in the glass with his and Alexis's reflection was the black hooded face of death.

Staggering back Blake gasped clutching at his chest as he tripped over his own feet and landed in muddy brown slush at the feet or at least where the feet should have been of this terrifying apparition. Yet even as Blake spluttered and gasped the ghost made not a sound nor a move towards him.

Finally calming down slightly Blake managed to gasp. "Are you the Ghost of Christmas yet to come?"

Instead of answering him directly the ghost seemed to bow slightly, then mutely he waved his skeletal hand in the direction of a tall sky scraper one that Blake recognized immediately…Wall Street New York.

Wondering what on earth he would learn here one glance at the silent spectre before him was enough to have Blake holding his tongue. Somehow Blake doubted this spirit would take kindly to him questioning the point of this visit. So instead he followed silently as the spirit led him through the revolving doors and up on to the trading floor.

Unsurprisingly considering it was Christmas day the floor was empty, with the traders taking a day off to be with their families. However there was a light on in one office and that seemed to be where the spirit was leading him.

"I don't know exactly when it happened but it has been confirmed by his lawyer….definitely dead, heart attack apparently, he was laying there almost a day before anyone found him it seemed."

"He had a heart to damage?" One of the younger men quipped breaking the somber mood and the rest of the men laughed.

"Regardless of whether he did or didn't it will affect the share price…I wouldn't be surprised if oil drops a couple points when the market reopens."

"What will happen with his company do you think?"

"Ahhhh now that is the real question." One of the older traders answered knowingly. "His children didn't want anything to do with it whilst he was alive and I can't imagine that will change now that he is dead…I imagine they will sell."

"So there is an opportunity?"

"For the right people."

"It would certainly be worth more broken up and sold off…of course the majority share is still owned by the family…at least for the time being." One added smiling conspiratorially and the others joined in. "Perhaps we should send a representative to the funeral?"

"Only if we think there is a guarantee of success? Time is money after all and we wouldn't want to waste the time and effort otherwise."

Horrified Blake could only step back and turn to face the spirit who said nothing to calm him, instead drifting off into the gloom and leaving Blake to scramble after him.

"I think I understand." Blake spluttered. "The fate of this poor man might so easily be my own…dying alone and unloved. People only seeking to take advantage of his passing. I thank you for showing me this spirit…I am going to change. I won't less this poor man's fate be my own."

Yet the spirit still continued on as if Blake hadn't spoken the tall city skyscrapers melting away to be replaced by a vast and ugly graveyard. Stone angels and ancient mausoleum's cast the twilit world in shadows and Blake froze on the threshold and refused to move another step.

"No…spirit why have you brought me here?"

Yet the Ghost didn't answer. Instead he pointed further into the graveyard, the only patch of brown earth in the otherwise snow covered landscape.

Hesitating Blake could feel himself being dragged towards the newest grave even as his feet tried to dig into the snow, slipping and sliding as he tried to grab hold of passing gravestones. Yet nothing could stop that slow monotonous progress towards the newly dug grave.

"No." Blake cried out his head turning sharply as he saw a very small procession of mourners enter the cemetery. A silverhaired Andrew Laird led the procession and Blake could only gasp as he caught sight of a strong broad shouldered blonde man walked beside him, looking more awkward than anything else. Next to him there was a willowy young lady wearing a dark veiled hat.

"Steven…Fallon." Blake felt his heart lurch; there were his children all grown up.

Yet they couldn't hear him and Blake could only watch as the coffin was lowered into the ground and the priest made a brief eulogy before the funeral party departed just as swiftly as they had arrived and Blake could only watch as they left him behind.

"Spirit please…A life can be made right…I don't need to see it." Blake pleaded yet the spirit was implacable and Blake could only cry out as he had no choice but to read the simple temporary marker…

"Just tell me I can wipe out this future? That I can make it right?"

However the spirit didn't answer not that Blake expected him too instead he raised his long skeletal finger and pointed from Blake to the grave and then back again.

"No….no please." Blake pleaded reaching out and grasping at the Ghost's deathly cloak in his fists, burying his face in them. "Please please it's not too late for me…I can make things right I can… I can!"


	5. A second chance

Gasping as if taking his first ever breath Blake Carrington sat up….

Sat up and stared about him in wonder and relief. He wasn't dead, he was back in his hotel room and bright sunlight was streaming in through his window. Even the telephone was here….even if it was still laying useless in the middle of the floor.

Giddy as a school boy he jumped to his feet and rushed to the window, the world was passing by as if it had never stopped and it all looked wonderful. Laughing Blake barely paused grabbing his coat and shoes he was almost halfway out the door before it struck him that he had no idea where he was going…there was so much he needed to do and so little time in which it could be accomplished.

He needed help if he was going to stand any chance at all.

He approached the concierge desk with a bright smile and an energetic good morning that clearly unnerved the duty manager still on shift, which wasn't that surprising considering that only a few hours before he had seen the old Blake Carrington pitch a fit over being asked to donate to charity.

"Good Morning Sir…"

"Oh good you can see me…you can't imagine what a relief that is. And it is not just a good morning it's a positively glorious morning. It is Christmas isn't it? I haven't missed it?" Blake asked laughing as the younger man's eyes widened significantly.

"Yes it is most definitely still Christmas sir…How may I be of assistance this morning?"

"Two…No actually three things." Blake corrected himself, before reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing his wallet. Opening it Blake selected several large bills.

"Firstly I would like to apologise for my behaviour last night, there are no excuses for the way I lost my temper and I would be only too happy to donate to the collection. If you could ensure that the doorman I snapped at receives that with my sincerest apologies I would be eternally grateful."

"Sir there really is no need…"

"Yes there is I do insist a great many back payments are included in this I assure you!" Blake insisted pressing the money into the other man's hand.

Now smiling with genuine pleasure the concierge nodded. "I will do as you ask Sir and the two other things?"

"Would you be so kind as to call the British Airway's desk at Heathrow and try and reserve me a seat…no make that two seats on their overnight flight to New York? I need to get home to my children and bring them an extra special Christmas present."

"I will get right on it sir and the last thing?"

"That you let me take a look at your telephone directory…there is someone I really need to talk to."

Number twenty two….twenty four…twenty six….ahhh there it was twenty eight.

Blake's stomach flipped in excitement and nervousness. He was one step closer to putting his plan in motion. Now if only his hands could stop trembling…

He had been a bundle of nervous energy since he had arrived unannounced and frankly unexpected on Mary Peterson's doorstep at barely after ten. The poor woman damn near jumped out of her skin when she recognized the man standing impatiently on her doorstep, immediately flustered since she was still in her dressing gown and her hair was still in curlers.

The Blake Carrington in her house…the Blake Carrington who was surprisingly humble and repenting as he begged a favour. And if Blake's arrival hadn't completely flummoxed her his request did. After all its not everyday that an ex husband asks you for the address of his former wife.

Blake's heart had all but fallen through the floor when Mary confessed not to know the exact whereabouts…somewhere in Chelsea but that was about all she could narrow it down to. Yet the kind hearted woman had taken one look at Blake's open and crushed expression before offering.

"_I probably know someone who does know it…I can phone around for you if you want?"_

And Blake had almost bitten her arm off he took her offer up so fast.

In the end Mary had been able to find the crucial information yet she had held off handing it over.

"_You aren't going to torment the poor woman?"_

"_No." Blake answered honestly. "In fact quite the opposite, or at least I hope so."_

_Seemingly satisfied with his answer Mary had handed over the address and stuttering his thanks many times over Blake was rushing towards the door. However before he had vanished entirely Blake couldn't contain his curiosity. "Are you having many for lunch?"_

_If she was surprised by the question Mary Peterson was able to hide it well. "Oh just me and John , and then old Mrs Jenkins down at the end. Then I have Constance and her son Terry coming, and Tom from round the corner said he might pop in…"_

"_Excellent…truly excellent."_

"_Of course you are more than welcome to come back yourself, even bring a guest if you like?" Mary prompted when Blake continued to smile at her like an idiot._

"_You never know Mrs Peterson I might take you up on that offer after all."_

However it was very different planning all of this…the execution was something else? And Blake couldn't deny part of him was afraid, afraid that Alexis would be so angry at his sudden arrival she would refuse to talk to him entirely. Then what would Blake do?

Pacing up and down in front of the house Blake debated going up and ringing the doorbell, girding his courage when suddenly the door opened and a familiar looking man stepped out, his handsome features still currently intact…something that Blake intended to change when he was given the opportunity.

"We aren't interested in buying anything or donating or any such rubbish so would you just bugger off?" The cocky younger man quipped as he pulled on his jacket and fumbled for the keys to his sports car parked a few feet down the road.

"I don't give a damn what you think or want." Blake spat back. "I came here to see Alexis…"

"Charles you left your gym bag behind you know I hate the smell of it…" A familiar voice echoed out from inside the house before its owner appeared said bag in hand, Blake's expected presence there gave a still robe clad Alexis the fright of her life.

"What the hell are you doing here Blake?"

Forcing a nervous smile Blake took a step forward relieved that Alexis seemed oblivious to the spluttering Charles the full force of her emerald gaze locked on her ex husband, flickers of fear and confusion appearing in their depths. Blushing slightly under the intensity of her gaze Blake likewise only had eyes for her, it had been six years since they had last stood face to face this way and if anything the passing years had only made her more beautiful.

Smiling that teasing half smile Blake knew Alexis struggled to resist it wasn't hard for him to enthuse plenty of warmth into his own gaze he replied enigmatically. "Oh I don't suppose you'd believe me if I said I was inspired by the Christmas Spirit?"

So he really hadn't planned things this far. At least not in any detail, his plan had been far more abstract.

Firstly to find Alexis convince her to come back to Denver tonight so they could both reconnect with their children and then somehow find a way to trace Adam…or Michael as he was currently being called, and Kate his fake grandmother and this Dr Edwards…Then of course Adam would need the support of both of his parents in order to deal with not only a complete turn around in his life but also this unsettling drug issue.

Then perhaps through working together to help all their children Blake could only hope Alexis would be able to learn to trust him again…and perhaps one day love would follow?

However in all his mad cap planning Blake had not once stopped to think just how he would convince Alexis to even listen to him let alone go along with his plans. Come to think of it considering the terrible way Blake now realized he had treated his wife during their marriage coupled with his enforcing her separation from their two youngest children Blake was astonished he had even been invited inside.

Shifting awkwardly in the formal sitting room as he waited for Alexis to return from dressing, Blake's gaze was locked on the door, waiting…just waiting for the moment Alexis would walk back through and he would have to speak knowing that he had no words waiting. Rubbing his sweating palms on his trousers Blake caught a glimpse of his reflection in the large mantel mirror.

Dear God he looked like he had just escaped from somewhere…

In his haste and enthusiasm to begin fixing his mistakes Blake hadn't even paused for a moment since waking…and he certainly hadn't taken the time to change or shave or it seems even brush down his hair, as his normally sleek silver gray cap was mussed and the natural curls he cursed on a daily basis hung down over his forehead. Combine that with his day old stubble and Blake really did look like the wild man of Colorado.

"Alexis I really don't like that he is here…And I certainly don't think you should see him alone, did you look at the man he looks like a tramp."

Glancing back towards the door Blake couldn't help but overhear their conversation as Charles had the nerve to question Blake's intentions.

"I am perfectly capable of looking after myself besides I thought you had to leave Charles? Don't you have to be at your sister's in an hour?"

"And leave you here with him?"

"I told you I can handle Blake."

"You shouldn't have to, just ask him to leave."

"I can't what if he is here about the children, what if something is wrong?"

"Then he would have called you not turned up on your doorstep on Christmas morning."

"Well I for one would still like to know why he is here."

"Well I don't like it and I want you to tell him to leave…go in there and tell him to leave right now!"

Something in the way Charles said that…the familiar tone that struck a nerve with Blake causing him to rise from the chair and be half way across the room even before he heard Alexis reply.

"Charles stop that…let me go…you're hurting my arm."

"Let the lady go now!" There was no doubting the commanding tone in Blake's voice as he stood in the doorway dark eyes blazing angrily in Charles's direction.

"I was just…"

"I know exactly what you were just doing." Blake spat back watching as Charles dropped his grip on Alexis and turned to face the older man with a cocky look.

"This is a private conversation."

"Not anymore it isn't." Blake countered. "The moment you laid a finger on her you gave me permission to interfere, no one lays a hand on the mother of my children without having to answer to me and I play for keeps."

"Blake it's nothing just a misunderstanding…" Alexis began surprised and oddly reassured by Blake's unusually caveman behaviour.

"This time it's just a misunderstanding…" Blake muttered darkly eying Charles within something akin to disgust. "Might I suggest you leave now before I do something you will regret?" He added directing his command to Charles who quailed slightly.

"Fine then I'll go…but don't you come crying to me later." Charles added snippily to Alexis as he grabbed his gym bag and left slamming the door behind him for good measure.

"I hope for your sake that Neanderthal does not have his own key to this house?"

"He's not a Neanderthal he's an artist." Alexis prissily replied, as she tried to stamp out her previous flicker of attraction for Blake's protective and domineering behaviour. "But no he doesn't….We haven't been seeing each other for very long, and he has a tendency to get a little opinionated I really cannot see it lasting long, not that it is any of your business Blake!"

"I know it isn't." Blake answered honestly his eyes lingering admiringly on her face, his frank and open admiration causing Alexis to fluster and glance away. "But I am still glad to hear it."

"Blake why are you here?"

Running his hands through his hair Blake found himself back at square one. "I…Urgh…It's complicated."

Raising an eyebrow Alexis clearly enjoyed watching him squirm and Blake couldn't say that he blamed her, not really, even if he wasn't particularly enjoying it himself.

"Oh I bet it is."

Sighing Blake realized it was now or never, it was all or nothing, and either Alexis would believe him or she would think he really was crazy. "It really is a lovely day…How about we take a walk around the park…I quite a story to tell you and I think it's better if I start right at the beginning."

"And that's how I ended up outside your door, that's the whole story." Blake finally paused to draw breath.

For the last half an hour Blake had been talking almost nonstop and his throat felt horse, and yet he hadn't dared stop half way through. Alexis had matched him step for step around the small pocket park but Blake could see from her face that was pinched and flushed that she was struggling not to interrupt at times.

"You honestly expect me to believe this…this nonsense?" Alexis all but exploded. "You dragged me out here in the freezing cold for no good reason…you caused a scene at my house."

"Alexis please…."

"No Blake you listen. I don't know what is more worrying, that you've had some sort of breakdown and honestly believe this nonsense or that you honestly thought I would believe any of it?" Alexis spat back turning on her heel. "Now you have taken up enough of my time, this sick little joke of yours has gone on long enough."

"Alexis wait." Blake called after her but Alexis ignored him and continued to storm off.

"No Blake just leave me alone."

"You tried to kill yourself that Christmas after we lost Adam." It was out of his mouth before Blake could stop it and it caused Alexis to stop in her tracks. "Tom stopped you before you could do any real harm to yourself. I never knew that did I…you never told me and I haven't spoken to my father in years and he was the only other one who knew about it. If what I am telling you is all a hallucination how could I know that?"

Turning back around Alexis's emerald eyes were wide with shock and her bottom lip was trembling. "How…how could know about that?"

Wincing in sympathy Blake closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out hesitantly to brush the sleeve of her fur coat. "Because I saw it…I don't know how. Perhaps it was all in my own head but in the end does it really matter whether it was really real or not if the effect is the same? I now realize just how poor a husband I was and how I am failing as a father and a human being. I need to try to fix things or I won't be able to live with myself, and I need to start by making amends to you. I've hurt you most of all and that knowledge is killing me."

"So you feel guilty, good, it's about damn time!" Alexis spat back. "You hurt me Blake, you neglected me and then when I went looking for someone, anyone to give me a little attention you punished me by taking my children away like I hadn't lost enough already!"

"And I lost you and the ability to feel any pleasure outside of closing a deal." Blake countered his hand closing on her elbow, enough to hold her in place but not enough to bruise.

"Alexis I know I cannot take those mistakes back, but I am prepared to spend the rest of life trying to make it up to you. The children need you and I realize now just how much, please even if you cannot forgive me I will understand but we need to be able to come to some sort of compromise for them."

"Why what did you have mind?" Alexis asked softly.

Sighing with relief Blake half smiled. "Fly back with me tonight…We can be home in time for Boxing day."

"Now I know you are crazy." Alexis snorted shaking her head. "I can't just up and leave…"

"Why not?" Blake spluttered. "Is anything more important than Fallon or Steven?"

"No of course not…"

"Certainly not that Neanderthal of yours."

"I told you Charles is an artist, he's just sensitive, and I told you we aren't serious."

"Then what is holding you back?" Blake pleaded. "Come home with me tonight…we can sort out all the details later, its Christmas and the children deserve us all together. They need you and I need you please?"

"But I hav…"

"Whatever is holding you back we can sort it out I promise!" Blake pleaded his dark eyes wide and boring down into Alexis's. "Whatever you need me to do I will do."

Snorting Alexis half shook her head a half smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You really aren't going to take no for an answer are you?"

"No, you of all people know how stubborn I can be…I'll camp out on your doorstep if I have to." Blake joked his expression entreating her to give in. "You'll soon get sick of having to step over me but at least I would get to see you every day."

"Blake this is crazy…" Alexis began shaking her head as she chuckled nervously. "I mean you just turning up like this and this fantastic story of yours…My head is still spinning."

"I know." Blake countered laughing with her. "But it's a good crazy isn't it?"

"It's scary crazy…the butterflies in my stomach are going wild."

"So are my mine but then you always did have that effect on me." Blake muttered softly watching closely as Alexis's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened in surprise.

"Blake this…you…"

"When I said I now knew I had made a terrible husband I meant it, but for all my failings I never actually stopped loving you Alexis…I just couldn't tell you how I was feeling because I was so afraid to let you in, and then I lost you because I kept how I felt to myself. Well I know now that you probably don't feel the same, and even if you did you could never forgive me but I have learnt the hard way what happens when I suppress how I feel."

"You really have changed." Alexis whispered softly tilting her head and staring up at him in wonder. "It seems too fantastical to believe but perhaps this really is some sort of miraculous intervention, I can't imagine anything less would have such impact."

"I deserve that." Blake chuckled softly. Reaching up he brushed his fingertips along her cheek, relieved when this time there wasn't even a hint of a bruise on her porcelain skin. "Thank you for at least listening to me. Now are you going to make my Christmas? Please come home."

Leaning into Blake's touch Alexis's eyes drifted shut for a moment before snapping open and she reached up to grasp his hand and turning on her heel tugged him back along the path.

Catching her up Blake could only smile at the determined expression on her face. "Where are we going?"

"Back to mine…After all if you expect me to drop everything and fly back to Denver tonight the least you can do is help me pack…and you never know if we finish early enough we might have a little time to discuss those details you mentioned." Alexis answered cryptically before turning to Blake smiling seductively. "I am suddenly in the mood to discuss one or two of them in depth."

Laughing Blake wrapped his arm around her waist, hurrying their pace until they were all but running back to her house. This really was turning out to be the best Christmas ever and Blake Carrington was resolved to spend the rest of his life doing right by those around him so that one day he could endevour to deserve it. 


End file.
